(verb) Observe.

1. Notice or perceive (something) and register it as being significant.
1.1. Watch (someone or something) carefully and attentively.

Observe all. See all as significant.
Especially that which seems strikingly not so.
Watch it carefully, attentively, examine the subject, the object, the Thought. Stop and take your thoughts in, then;

Sit and let the words out;
Sit and be quick, for observations are constant;
Sit and you may forget them all, so
Sit, and write.

Observe beauty—or ugliness—in the mundane
And the daily.
The prettiness of flowers is well documented
As is personal love.

Observe feeling without vague subjectiveness
Or dreamt-up narrative.
Observe your surroundings and take in that moment
Five minutes to write it down
(Or ten, if you're lucky).

Cast away your barriers.
Meter and rhyme,
Lines ending with full sto—
—Vocabulary narcissism.

Let everyone understand your words, for
Poetry is not for the well-educated
Or the creative
Or the recluse,

Poetry is for all that observe
And register their sights and sounds significant.
The poet merely watches carefully and attentively
Then marks it down

(noun) Poetry

1. Observation

They’re just walking by
Idle sticks and logs and twigs
Wayward trees passing to and fro
In their forests of isolation
The birds don’t sing there
If they do
Then each tree hears its own tune
My tree is cut
Just a stump
Just my luck
I have no birds to sing anyway
Accept for this one wayward jay
It’s less of a song
More of an ironic cackle
Laughing at my stump
Chained to this rusted shackle
There used to be a song
Sweet like sugar
Bitter like sole cinnamon
But harmonious
Lovely
Divine
Mine
Now I’m just walking by
An idle stick
A log
A twig
A wayward tree stump
Just my lonely luck

it doesn't get better

Nothing satiates a haze,
however a *****'s breath
and sorrow makes it wallow.

A cylindrical prison
pounding ideas forevermore
into your scalped recompense.

Take away these porcelain
walls or rip down the violet
curtains smothering it all.

the blue of ocean
did meet with the blue of sky
on the horizon

was as if the two
hues of blue were the one shade
in that far off line

A flash of unripe banana green hair,
And the solemn padding of thumbs hitting a screen,
The wisp’s of dying flame,
A worn sticker on a pure evening blue water bottle,
The tight warm grip,
Of a beanie on my head,
The soft wind that air vents disperse,
The crisp smell of a sparse winter’s day,
Like wasabi, but clogging my nose instead of cleaning it,
The din of speaking and eating in a popular coffee shop,
And I’m just on my way to class

.
One day at a time
swings the pendulum;
only love awakens senses
too ephemeral to be restrained,
like the magic of a phonograph stylus
in a vintage vinyl groove
and the sensual touch
      of skin so new

It's not easy to watch
a flock flying away
      in the distance,
seeing the expanse beyond
reach of a wandering mind;

      heed distracted
      by the slow sway
of the treetops hypnotic careen

Doves dive on feathered canter,
      silent as the winged wind,
broke free from the gravity
      befallen the weight
            of the world
                                                
      Look­ing up wondering
            beyond the sky,
         the passing clouds
            crawl across
palliating the dusk hazed horizon

Synchronicity transcends across
an immeasurably deep river chasm,
      into a wordless abyss
      ensconced unthought
              between
        here and there

Silent silhouettes
            glide across
      the valley void below,
            wings to the sky

and, if you listen to a moment breathe,
            you can hear
                  the silent peace .............

you can feel the prevailing wind's direction
            blowing through your soul


             Jesse Stillwater
            December 2017

You never see my pain
behind the cold rain
I hide them all the same
A so called ******
I don’t choose to schizophrenic
it’s God’s epidemic
when the cave man called to the divine
when he spoke to the trees
as gods when he believed
did you think the ones who didn’t believe
tormented him yes they probably did
but without looking outside our shell
we can’t see heaven or hell
and if you don’t look science as well.